Hurt
by xxsewnlipsxx
Summary: Serving the Dark Brotherhood is not quite as easy as Vicente thinks. For the first time ever, Vahla has found love and family. Now she must choose whether to purify the sanctuary or betray the Brotherhood. femslash. romance. Antoinetta Marie/OC


**Title: Hurt**

**Rating: M for mature**

**Warnings: sexual content, language, blood and gore, femslash**

**Summary: Serving the Dark Brotherhood is not quite as easy as Vicente thinks. For the first time ever, Vahla has found love and family. Now she must choose whether to purify the sanctuary or betray the Brotherhood.**

**A/N: Thanks for reading, review please. Inspired by Johnny Cash's Hurt. Dedicated to my dear friend TimelessFantasies on DA. **

* * *

_I hurt myself today_

_To see if I still feel_

_I focus on the pain..._

_The only thing that's real_

_-Hurt, _Johnny Cash

Hurt

The sun was just sinking below the horizon, splashing a myriad of lush pinks all over the expansive sky. Plush clouds reflected the glory, blocking the usual blue sky as they had all day. The argonian shop owner shuffled by, slowed by fatigue, and towards her home. The clattering of guards' armor and dying conversation filled the streets. A few thick, fat drops of rain fell onto the cobblestones. The lamps were being lit. Homes were being locked. My target was entering the house.

Vicente had warned me about killing a man so close to the Dark Brotherhood basement, but the target had traveled from Bruma right into our hands. Who could resist such an enticing opportunity? A soft groan sounded from behind, followed by a twisting of blankets and the meowing of a disturbed cat. I placed a calloused hand on the sickly boy's forehead and whispered a spell to help him sleep. He had proven most useful in distracting the guards the day before while I slipped into the home to set a few traps and eliminate a housemaid.

Remarkable how much my hearing had improved since becoming an assassin. In the dead of night, one could hear anything. The target's key clicked in the lock. Once he entered the room, I could silently enter the basement and finish the job. My traps weren't lethal; I had made sure of that. Tightening my grip around the bottle of mead's neck, I took another swig and relished in the burning sensation. Fire spread downward and brought my stiff limbs back to life. Perhaps sitting in one spot for six hours was not the wisest action to take when I was about to crawl through a stony basement. Agility and silence counted the most here. Vicente would not tolerate mistakes for this hit.

Softly the door to his house clicked shut and around the corner, the heavy fall of an armored boot forced me to recall the danger of being discovered. Quickly, I raised my hand above my head and whispered a spell. Being born under the Shadow had been quite beneficial to my new line of work. Invisibility crept over my flesh like a snug blanket, cloaking my body in shadows. Pressing into the house, I watched as the Imperial guardsman stepped carefully over the beggar bodies lining the alley. Children, women, men...all so poor they were forced to live on the streets. The Imperial tried not to make a face as the scent of unwashed bodies and musk overwhelmed him. Strange that it no longer bothered me.

When he disappeared around the corner, I dropped a few coins into my beggar boy's hands and turned to crawl into the cellar. As I lifted up the broken-hinged doors to the cellar, the smell of mold and decaying bodies hit me hard. I had to clench my teeth and close my eyes. Malavus Serill was into some nasty business indeed. Below the odor of rotting flesh was a preservative that made me think perhaps Vicente didn't know the extent of his obsession with corpses. My feet made no noise as I lowered myself into the cellar and drew the doors closed. Upon turning around, I realized that maybe I should sleep more soundly at night with the knowledge that I am ridding the world of such a sick man.

There were hundreds of shelves lining the walls, and each of them contained at least twenty jars. Jars full of body parts. _Labeled _body parts. Off in the corner lay the dismembered trunk of an unrecognizable corpse. The torn, weathered clothing implied it was one of the beggars off the streets. Blood splashed the walls and the floor, dried, flaking crusts embedded in the stone. I steeled myself, creeping toward the door. Vicente wanted it quick, but I was beginning to wonder just how much gold I would lose if I were to draw it out. Dismember him bit by bit like his victims...

Trying very hard not to breathe, I moved to the opposite side of his basement and took out my picks. It was a simple thing to open the door, really. Pressing my palm against the door and opening the door slowly, I drew my dagger and stood up. The trap had worked perfectly. Hanging upside-down, in all his High Elf glory, was Malavus. Hitting his head on the ground must have knocked him out for he wasn't screaming or thrashing about. In fact, he lay limp but still breathing. Pity. Striding toward him, focused on glancing about for something I could take to the Thieves Guild for a good price, I eventually reached his body. His buttons were nice, real gold. Washed, hair combed, expensive clothes. The mansion he lived in was quite homey, as well. I ran a thumb over a button and wrenched it free. This seemed to wake him up.

"Wha...?" he muttered groggily, eyes darting about.

"Malavus," I crooned. My standing up and his hanging downward had our faces at just the right height so that he could see me. I reached up and undid my hood, allowing it to fall around my shoulders.

"A...dunmer? What are you doing in my house?" he demanded, coming to. "What is the meaning of this?"

I curled my fingers over the hilt of my dagger and pressed the tip to his heart. "Sithis sends His regards," I whispered, plunging the blade in all the way to the handle. He didn't have time to scream.

Blood dribbled out of the new hole in his chest as I slowly removed the weapon. Grimacing at the mess, I pulled a cloth from my belt and wiped the dagger blade off before gently lying it on the ground. It was a cheap weapon. One that I didn't care to have in my possession any longer.

Pulling the Blade of Woe from my belt and slipping into the hall to grab my shield where I had previously stashed it upon murdering the housemaid, I crept to the window and peered out. I saw no guards rushing to the dead man's defense. There was no crowd of gasping citizens. The kill had been quick and clean. No witnesses. No bounty. Vicente would be satisfied.

It was then that I felt it. Instinctively now I knew the sound of a sword piercing flesh. It was a wet, sort of popping noise. Instinctively, I recognized the metallic tang of blood as it wafted into the air. The strange part is that at first I felt no pain. Then, as if to punish me for being slow, waves of hot-white lightning raged over my body. A hand flew to my side, gripping the gaping wound in my flesh as warm blood spilled between my fingers. Trying my hardest not to focus on the paralyzing pain, I reached for my dagger and spun around.

"Assassin, your days of murder are at an end!" she shouted at me, black hair waving behind her like a dark banner. I knew her at once, remembering the female whom left his house the day before. Her green dress was stained with my blood. Though it would have been easy to kill her, I didn't want to. She was defending her home. _I _was the interloper. It was _I _that struck first.

Instead I made a beeline for the door and threw it open. Outside a storm raged as though infuriated at my intrusion. Trees were bent over, fallen leaves cutting through the air like daggers as they were whipped by the wind. There was no one on the street, and so no one to see me duck to the side like a Kahjiit marathon runner and dive into the bushes. My hand tightened on my wound as it bloomed with pain. Panting, I pressed my cheek into the cool stone of the townhouse and watched through the leaves as the woman followed me outside, pausing on her doorstep in confusion at my disappearance. I used this momentary pause to dart through the underbrush and towards the only place I knew would protect me: the sanctuary.

The target's proximity to the sanctuary had forced me to take him at night and in complete silence. Vicente had considered it a disadvantage. I was beginning to disagree with that assessment. I knew that I wouldn't be able to run very far. For one, I was not the best athlete in the world. In short bursts, I did wonders. Endurance, however, was another story. Secondly, my wound was bleeding in earnest and needed to be tended to. The rain was washing away any sort of trail I might make, but it was also preventing any clotting. The fact that I only had to jog for three or four blocks was most certainly a blessing from Sithis Himself.

My palms hit the stony well to stop myself from sliding in a puddle of mud. The rain lashed at my back as my already frozen fingers locked into the grate and pulled it up with a yank. Vincente always warned me to lock the well. I was glad I had ignored him this time.

I raised myself over the edge and squeezed into the manhole, careful to pull the grate back over the top of me. The hole was a bit cramped, my shoulders touching each side. It was not made for the more robust character. For once, I was happy for my litheness. Rain poured down the sides, lubricating the tunnel. With a speed that was unnecessary, I climbed down the latter and landed in a heap at the bottom of the hole. The Dark Guardian was standing over me, his head cocked to the side in an unnatural way.

Vision blurring with pain, I simply lay there, staring up at him with slowly closing eyes. Someone would see me...someone would have to come help me eventually.

"Vahla!" The last thing I saw was Antoinetta Marie's worried face hovering above mine.

….

I rocketed into a sitting position to the great distress of my care-taker. Then with a shout I realized my mistake as warmth spread across my side and through white bandages. Cool, gentle hands grasped my shoulders and pushed me back onto a bed. I glanced over and saw Marie's crinkled brow in view. Darkness stretched throughout the stony corridor, minimal lighting coming from a few flickering candles on the other side of the room. Ocheeva stood at the end of my bed, watching me with a stoic expression. The smell of blood, armor, and incense plucked at my heartstrings. I was home.

"Easy, Sister," Marie cooed. "You took a bad hit, you did. You're lucky Vicente smelled the blood before you died." Rummaging in a chest to my side. A candle came dangerously close to my bandages as she took another look.

"How are you feeling, Sister?" asked Ocheeva in her deep, scratchy voice.

I tried to speak, but no sound came out. I tried again but to no avail. Swallowing thickly, I realized my throat was as dry as the desert. Marie handed me a pewter cup full of lukewarm water. Sitting up, I swallowed it hastily before clearing my throat.

"I feel awful," I admitted, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. Only rookies were hurt during an assassination. I had climbed my way up to the top and my skills still lacked. It only showed how far I had left to go.

"Well, it's no wonder," Marie chirped. "Vicente said there wasn't a time limit but you ran right out in the middle of a storm."

"It wasn't raining when I started," I told her, shooting her a glare. When I glanced back over at Ocheeva, I was hit with a stunning realization. "There was a witness. His wife…or lover. Someone. She was the one who wounded me."

Ocheeva held up a halting hand. "I have already taken care of her. She will not be a problem in the future. And despite getting to the guards, she had very little to say about you. I do not believe she knew you were one of us."

Relief washed over me followed by a sinking shame at the thought that Ocheeva had been dispatched to clean up my mistake. I should have killed her. My failure would cost me dearly, as I could feel the bleeding through the stitches. What would Vicente think? That I had failed him? That perhaps I wouldn't be a competent enough assassin after all? I had risen so high in such a short time, surely he couldn't discard me that easily.

But all these old insecurities and worries were moot, anyway. If Vicente decided to toss me out of the Brotherhood, there was little I could do about it. I sighed and lay down against the sandpaper pillow case and tried not to wince as Marie prodded my wound. When she poked too deeply, I snarled at her.

"Are you qualified to look at that?"

Her face crumpled, wounded. "I'm not a doctor, but I know more than most of the people here."

"Marie is capable enough for now. The guards are crowding the streets searching for the murderer, and you best not go to a doctor here anyway. The woman wasn't sure of your face, but she was sure that she had wounded you. Any knife wounds will be regarded as suspicious," Ocheeva murmured.

"Just don't prod me so," I glanced at my sister, apologetic.

"All right. Would you like some more water?" Marie asked.

I nodded and watched as she left to get some. Ocheeva walked down the length of the bed and took the stool where Marie had been previously sitting. Her scaly, cold hand enclosed mine. She looked somber, beaten down.

"You should be careful where your eyes stray, young one," Ocheeva rumbled. "Your brothers and sisters are beginning to be wary of you and Antoinetta Marie."

My side gave a desperate twinge as I straightened upon the sheets. "There is nothing to hide between us."

"So I tell them, but they whisper rumors among themselves," she answered. "There is no rule against it, of course, but same-gender relationships are frowned upon in society. Vicente and I do not want you to attract any unnecessary attention."

I smiled politely at her and patted her hand. "Ocheeva, I can't remember anything from before I woke up in that dungeon, and Marie doesn't have a family. We're acting as each other's sister, that's all. Don't worry about us, because there's nothing to worry about."

Marie came back with the water then and handed it directly to me. I drank deeply, holding onto the feeling of relief as it slid down my throat. Ocheeva nodded her head once and patted my leg as she walked by. "I must go. I have papers to file and contracts to hand out." With a nod at the both of us, she left.

Marie resumed her previous place at my side, warm, soft fingers closing around a few tendrils of my hair. "Goodness me, you're still damp," she noted, letting the appendages trail down my face and grip my jaw. I finished the water and held it in my lap, staring into her vacuous blue eyes.

"Marie," I started, but her cool lips captured mine in a slow, languid kiss, and I forgot what I was going to say. She parted first, a bit breathless.

"I thought you were going to die," she said with tears in her eyes. All my worries towards Ocheeva or Vicente vanished in that moment. I kissed her again with a tenderness I didn't know I had and touched her cheek.

"I won't leave you," I promised even though it was a lie.

….

I smacked Marie quickly on the thigh to rouse her and tossed her clothes at her. She blinked sleepily and glanced up at me. "Hurry, my love, someone is coming," I said, yanking on my shrouded armor with startling speed for a woman with twenty stitches in her side. They pulled, and I cringed, stumbling backwards and leaning against my own bedpost. Marie was on her feet in an instant, putting her small clothes on before ducking beneath the sheets.

She was more clever than I gave her credit for at times. Pretending to be asleep would be better than trying to get dressed and appear awake. The heavy footsteps I heard before were getting closer. Judging by the weight and the distinct jangle of heavy armor, it had to be the only orc member of our sanctuary. It was a shame. Had it been Teinaava, there would have been no worry.

Gogron opened the door with a hearty laugh, M'raaj-Dar next to him with a massive scowl on his face. Gogron smacked him on the shoulder, nearly sending the Kahjiit to the floor. "Good one! That's a good one!"

M'raaj-Dar growled menacingly. "I insulted you, you incompetent fool. Can you not even tell?"

The wrinkled mess of my bed and tangle of my hair clearly showed that I had been resting though I hadn't gone to sleep. I reached over my bed and began fastening my belt while Marie snored softly in her own bed. Another catastrophe averted, but I wondered how much longer I could keep my infatuation with Marie a secret. I wondered how long we could pretend to be sisters when we loved each other so.

Gogron approached loudly, and I flinched in fear of one of those massive hands clapping down on _my _shoulder. "Sister! Glad to see you are alive."

"Humph! You left a hideous blood stain on the floor and let enough rain in to drown us all, idiot," the Kahjiit mumbled beside his bed, slowly removing his robes.

"So sorry to inconvenience you like that, brother," I muttered absently, yanking my hair back into a ponytail and trying not to stretch my stitches.

"Where are you going so soon?" Gogron asked with a note of surprise.

"Ocheeva will have a new contract," I replied simply. Proving myself would become even more prudent in the next few days while I healed. And the more time apart Marie and I had the better.

Marie rolled over and pulled the thin blanket up over her chest, snuffling once and then falling back into sleep. Gogron laughed quietly at the display while M'raaj snorted distastefully, muttering something about disgusting humans. I tried to hide the small smile that sprang to my lips.

Leaving my family behind in the sleeping quarters, I wandered the halls towards Ocheeva's office. The aroma of dried meats and cheeses permeated the air along with lamp oil and the smell of stone. Fire crackling and the distant sounds of sword striking a practice dummy plucked at my heartstrings. The Dark Guardian shuffled past me with creaking bones and a dragging sword. I often wondered if this was just a mindless dummy meant to terrify and wander the halls or if he actually had a personality, a mind of his own despite the obviously vacant room in his skull. Nevertheless, I inclined my head as I passed in respect for a member more senior than myself.

Ocheeva was pouring over papers in her office, one scaly hand clasped around a pewter cup full of a faintly smelly liquid that colored her entire room. The bed in the corner was messed, a journal and a scroll placed side by side. She glanced up and gestured for me to enter.

"I am glad you came," she said, standing and walking to the bed. Her fingers curled around the scroll, and she presented it to me. "This came from the Speaker while you were...otherwise occupied. They are direct orders that even I am not allowed to view. This is an honor afforded to very few."

The parchment was light in my hands, the blue ribbon made of fine silk and sliding off with ease. I wrapped the ribbon around my wrist before opening the paper, eyes scanning. Written in blood was a formal invite for me to meet Lucien Lachance in order to discuss a matter of most importance. My heart nearly plummeted to my feet. I felt that in that instant my future had been sealed. He was going to either kill me or kick me out of the Brotherhood. My first mistake had been my last, it seemed. My fingers were clutching the paper so tightly that Ocheeva had to gently pry it from my grasp, closing it without even taking a peek.

"Dear, are you all right?" she asked kindly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I swallowed. "Yes, I'm all right. Just...a sudden pain in my side. Perhaps...perhaps I should go lie down."

"The orders seem urgent, Vahla," she said. "You should attend to them, but do not neglect your health. We wouldn't want anything bad happening to our most skillful sister." She smiled happily at me and squeezed my wrist, pressing the scroll into my hand.

No, we wouldn't want that, now would we?

…

The painted horse that I had no name for took me as far as Bruma before I forced her to stop and ducked behind a tree to vomit. It was as though a fever was running through me. Shakily, I wiped the sweat from my brow and tried to calm myself. Purification. The word was so clinical, sterile, heartless.

_"We are killers, aren't we?"_

My lunch threatened to rise again, but I swallowed it down, clenching my mouth shut and closing my eyes. A constant, unrelenting pain shot through my entire being, both physical and mental. The hot day beat on my back like a constant burden, as though a being was purposely punishing me for ever thinking about it. Thinking about hurting my family. About killing them all. Gogron with his gentle respect and boisterous laugh, M'raaj with his seething hatred and harsh judgment, Vicente with his fatherly love and kind eyes, Ocheeva with her raspy voice and motherly affection, Antoinetta Marie...

My arms went around my stomach as I heaved again, nausea turning me a particular shade of green. Oh, Sithis, to kill Marie when she trusted me so. Agony ripped through me sharper than any sword. How could Lucien ask this of me? I would rather be speared and burned alive. And how easy would it be just to ask her to follow me? To get her alone and then plunge the dagger into her back? I couldn't. There was no way. And yet, I had agreed to it.

Spitting, I grabbed my flask and drained the contents. The water and alcohol mix swished around unpleasantly in my stomach. I shook my head, knowing that any delay would call for bandits or imps or another damned portal to open up and threaten to swallow me whole. Standing up and leaving the tree, I whispered reassurances to my stolen horse and touched her nose before climbing atop her broad back and kicking her into action. She lunged forward, breaking twigs and leaving prints in the road. It didn't matter. I had to get back to the sanctuary. I had to talk to Marie, do something, let her know of the danger she was in. Lucien was mad. There was no way Marie would betray the family. There was no way any of them would.

My horse carried me all the way to the sanctuary without stopping. The painted thing was tired and nearly half dead when I reached the gates, but I left it behind, slipping into the shadows and through the gates before they could close for the night. Once inside, I went to the east and climbed through the well down into my home. Once there, I stopped and stared. The Dark Guardian was standing there, staring at me with his vacuous eye sockets. The thing swayed on the spot but did not move. Strange, this, because he was always moving whenever I saw him. It was as though he had been expecting me. Had he? Snarling at myself for wasting time when I wanted so badly to see _her _face, I pushed him out of the way and practically ran to the sleeping quarters.

I prayed to Sithis that there would be no one there but her. She was always in the sleeping quarters, always writing her journal or sharpening her blades. Why would she be anywhere else? And there she was. I rounded the corner and all my alarm fled. She was sitting on her bed, humming to herself while combing her hair. A sort of foreign relief set in my veins, warmth flowing as though I were sitting next to a fire. I relaxed immediately and leaned against the wall, my nausea, exhaustion, and fear disappearing in that instant.

She had fine features, though I never much had paid attention to that. Marie was very beautiful with a head full of rich, blond hair. Her eyes were dark as night, black like my blade. She was thin, bony, and perfect. For some reason when she had approached me that first night, kissing me with the innocence of a child, I had not thought about her looks. Her mind was what I had longed for, to be a part of her world. The woman who was saved from the brink of death by Death himself.

I went to her and crushed her mouth to mine, holding her lithe body so close that our hearts beat in sync. She yelped when I bit her lip, tasting the coppery blood as though it were the richest of wines. My sister...my friend...my lover. If there was anything in my life that I wanted to preserve, it was her. Antoinetta Marie. She was my purpose for living and the reason I stayed with the Dark Brotherhood even when my heart ached for the men that I killed. I was not so heartless. I was not the murderer they thought I was. I was a child who needed to be a part of something, have someone protect me. And Lucien wanted me to ruin what I had worked so hard for.

"Vahla! For the love of Sithis, what has gotten into you?" she swatted at me, pulling back a bit breathless. I kissed her again, pulling at her clothes and running my hands down her back, nails digging in until tiny white scratches appeared. She gasped when I began to kiss her neck, her chest, unbuttoning her chemise for further access to her belly. I delved my tongue into her navel and breathed in her scent of blood and poison and perfume. The shirt hung loosely about her shoulders so I pushed it off until it fell to the floor in a heap.

"I love you," I whispered against her neck, lavishing her breasts and removing her bindings. "I love you, Marie, I love you!" With a knife I cut her belt and yanked her skin-tight shrouded armor from around her waist, falling to my knees before her like a religious would to his god. The knife fell, forgotten along with the rest of her clothes.

"What is...this about?" she panted as I kissed her thighs and hips and lower belly. Removing her small clothes, I yanked her closer to me and parted her with my tongue, hearing the grateful moan that I loved so much. I didn't matter that I had made love to her just a day ago. I still burned for her, wanted to imprint myself into her. She quivered, hands falling onto my shoulders as her legs trembled. She bucked her hips, and I grabbed them in a steel-like grip, adding fingers to my tongue and hearing her cry out at this.

For once, I didn't care if Ocheeva heard us. What did it matter? What did it matter anymore when by morning they would all be dead? All but her, my beautiful Marie. My Goddess. Survivor.

She seemed to care, though, and weakly clapped a hand over her mouth, balancing with only one hand on my shoulder. Then, she quivered and fell to her knees as pleasure overrode her senses. I caught her naked body and held it to mine, kissing her feverishly, forcing her to taste herself on my tongue, forcing my love upon her. I would not kill her. I would not end her life because she was _mine _not Lucien's, and I would decide when she would die.

"Vahla, what is it, love? Why are you crying?" Marie demanded, pulling away from me and touching my cheek. Astonished, I passed my fingers over my face only to find a wetness there. Tears sparkled on my fingertips.

So I told her everything, told her of Lucien's insane plan to deal with the traitor and the weight that I bore. I told her of my fears and grief over what I must do and the impossible situation I was in. Lucien would kill me if I didn't do my duty and then kill the family anyway. Was it worth it to sacrifice my life for a lost cause? What did she think? Would she hate me for agreeing to the most horrible thing in the world? Would she hate me for murdering her family?

"What are you going to do?" she asked, dressed by the time I was finished with her long hair spilling across her shoulders.

"I am going to take you away from here," I told her urgently, grasping her hands and lacing our fingers. "I have enough money to give you so that you can live comfortably, and I have a house in Bruma where you can lay low and avoid attention."

"My body?" she asked softly, eyes downcast.

"After I take you to safety, I will take care of that. There is an imperial girl that wanders around town at midnight. She is small and blonde. Fit, too. I'll slit her throat and drag her body here to lay it in your bed. They will not know the difference. Lucien himself won't come to check." She wouldn't look at me, and that frightened me. Her hands were limp in mine, face turned away in contemplation.

"You would ask me to abandon my family to their fate? To go with you and hide away in a Bruma townhouse forever?" she whispered.

"Not forever," I shook my head, desperate. "Just for a little while. Until we figure out who the real traitor is. Then Lucien will have no reason to need you dead. We can restore the sanctuary."

A wistful smile tugged at her mouth. "You make it all sound so simple! 'We can live together, Marie. We can restore the sanctuary! All we must do is abandon our brothers and sisters to death!' I don't know if I can do that."

I tugged on her hand. "Please," I begged, "please. I can't kill you. Don't ask me to. I can't leave you behind. I love you." Burning tears filled my eyes, threatening to spill over.

She tucked a bit of dark hair behind my pointed ear. "As I love you. I just...why would Sithis allow this to happen? There is no reason behind it! I—of course I will go with you. I wish things were different, though."

With a soft cry of happiness, I kissed her flush on the mouth. "I swear I will make you comfortable. My home in Bruma is underground and dark and cold. Just like the sanctuary."

With a sigh of resignation, she laid her head against my chest, listening to my heart, and curled her arms around my waist. I held her gently as though she were a child, breathing in her scent and feeling a calm come over me. "I've been to Bruma a few times," she admitted. "Never once did I think about living there. What possessed you to buy a house near all that snow?"

"I'm a member of the Thieves Guild," I told her. "My fence lives not thirty paces away. It was convenient and cheap."

She was silent for a moment before pressing her head further into my chest and mumbling, "You'll be quick about it, won't you? They won't...suffer?"

"No, they won't," I replied. Sufferthorn lay on my bed not five feet away, glinting madly in the firelight. I cast a glance at the mournful blade before closing my eyes and placing a kiss against Marie's hair. Who would have thought that I would find love in such a place?

My heart started when I heard voices. Vicente was chiding M'raaj for something very close to the door. I pulled away from Marie and whispered: "Meet me by the East gates tomorrow at sunrise."

…

She did. I had spent the night in the attic of an old target's house, curled up in a ball in the rafters while trying to ignore the grand party his widowed wife was having. The rats had made nice company. For some reason, sleeping in the sanctuary when it was _I _who was about to betray them all hadn't felt right. I wouldn't ever sleep in the sanctuary again, even if it was restored. And really, I had only almost fell through the rotted boards twice. That wasn't enough to really make me feel like a fool.

Marie was standing outside next to my painted horse, feeding it something out of the palm of her hand and petting the creature's mane. The horse had been stolen, and truthfully I hadn't expected to keep it so long. The fact that it lacked a name was the least of my worries with it. With a tired smile, I mounted the horse and extended my arm to her. Marie pulled up alongside me and wrapped her arms around my waist, head resting on my back. I kicked the horse into a slow run, heading for Bruma with a gentle wind playing in my hair.

We didn't talk much on the ride there. Roughly, it took nearly six hours, not counting the amount of time we stopped in the middle of the day to get out of the heat of the sun. The horse had needed a drink, too. But after dunking Marie in the river nearly three times and making love to her on the shore, we had gotten serious again and headed on our way. It was nearly dusk by the time we stopped at the snowy gates to Bruma and requested entry.

I led her to my home just off the main gate, plunging the key into the lock and opening the door. I took her bags and guided her inside with my hand on the small of her back, apprehensive. Would she like it? Was the decoration poor? When had been the last time I dusted the pitiful place? Would she be comfortable? The main room was awfully drafty, and I shut the door before any snow flurries could enter. My main focus, however, was her. She stopped in the middle of the room, small hand on the banister, eyes searching. I dropped her bags on the ground next to the door and swept a curtain of hair from her shoulder, taking in the surroundings myself.

"It's not perfect, but it's home."

"It _is _perfect," she said softly, taking my hand and squeezing gently. In that moment, I felt as though I could fly. Marie was safe for the time being and in my home where I could keep track of her. The place suddenly seemed much warmer. I took her hand and pulled her down towards the stairs, grinning.

"Wait until you see the bedroom," I whispered suggestively.

Morning came with the laziness of a cat napping in the sun. I untangled myself from Marie's arms and slid into my armor, buckling the straps and the belt in a sort of reverent silence, knives placed in all the correct slots, shield of the Blades on my arm. I set a handful of gold coins on the stand, feeling much like I was leaving money for a harlot, and snuck out the door. It would take me six hours to get back to Cheydenhal and a long time waiting to sneak into the sanctuary and slaughter everyone. Taking them out one at a time like my quest in the mansion would be best. Keeping them all from finding the bodies would be the tough part. And Vicente...he would provide the most challenge. I had fought vampires before. They were not easy prey.

With a sigh, I left the door unlocked and ventured out into the snow.

…

Plunging the dagger once more into Ocheeva's heart, I fell to the ground in a sweaty, bloody, and emotionL mess. Blood from every type of species was stuck in my hair, beneath my fingernails. I wept, the saltiness stinging my eyes as I hiccuped and gasped for breath. Never had I been forced to do something so terrible. It was as though I were eating blades, each one hitting deeper and deeper, tearing out my insides with a ferocity I was unfamiliar with. Scooting away from the body, I huddled deeper against the wall, hand clasped over my mouth, attempting to calm down.

A scraping sound across the floor drew my attention. In the doorway was the Dark Guardian, curious head tilted sideways, regarding me with a strange intensity that burned beneath the blackness of his eye sockets. I gasped again, sobbing nearly hysterically. Obviously he was not magically tied to anyone in the sanctuary as everyone was dead. Gorgon in a pile of ash, M'raaj by a poisoned apple, Vicente while he slept, Ocheeva in all out combat, the others...the others so quickly that they weren't aware of what had happened. Even Schemer lay drowning in a puddle of blood, a lifeless rat.

Sniffing pathetically, I got shakily to my feet and drew my last dagger, enchanted by the Mage's Guild. I lunged, and the Dark Guardian did not move. I thrust the dagger through his soft skull, breaking it into a hundred different pieces. A light enveloped his bony body as we were sent crashing to the floor, and his bones disintegrated into dust. It was finished.

Later, when I returned to that dreadful place as the new Listener, everything seemed to make sense to me. The old had to be punished, to be purged so that the new could replace them. Better warriors and loyal servants took the places of my old family, those who would protect and die for me. When I reinstated Marie into the sanctuary as the new Speaker, the Dark Mother agreed. We had survived when no one else had. We had been clever enough to keep it a secret from Lucien Lachance, and for that Marie was granted a stay of execution. She took over Lucien's job so that one day she might be able to save a sad, lonely little girl and put her in a place where she might be loved.

I had loved my family quite literally to death. After all, we were killers. Every last one of us. And some of the old had to survive so that the cycle could begin again.

* * *

**I worked for three weeks on this story, writing it on and off. I'm not so good with writing in first person, but I did enjoy making this despite that. I hope you enjoyed it! There simply isn't enough Oblivion fiction out there. Thank you for reading. Review, please.**


End file.
